


Judgement of Paris

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 19:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Slashy humour. The Lone Gunmen. Star Wars. Crullers.





	Judgement of Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Judgement Of Paris by Halrloprillalar

DISTRIBUTION: OK for Archive/X. Elsewhere by permission. Email forwarding is OK.  
SPOILERS: None.  
RATING: PG13 for slashy suggestiveness.  
SUMMARY: Slashy humour. The Lone Gunmen. Star Wars. Crullers.  
DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox own the X-Files, not me. Further acknowledgements at end.  
MORE FIC: http://come.to/prillalar  
June 1999  
Hail Eris. You always come through. Su d'auta summachos esso, baby.

* * *

-=Prologue=-

One day, Hal was sitting in front of her computer, trying to think of something to write about. She looked through her idea file, just in case there was anything good there. "Dial M for Mulder" -- no, that would mean phone sex and she didn't have the energy for that. "Mr Tambourine Man" -- it was a little late for movie-fic. "AD&D" -- good title, but Skinner/Langly slash was too much of a stretch, even for her.

Nothing. It was time to invoke the Muse. Fixing a libation of Bacardi and Coke, she drank it, since her goddess frowned on wasting good liquor by pouring it on the ground. Then she supplicated the goddess, entreating her to come and aid her in her plight. And she came down, Eris, Goddess of Discord, and snapped her gum, and asked what was the matter this time and what did Hal expect her to do about it?

"I need a story idea," Hal told her.

"OK, I've got a good one. Mulder and Skinner get trapped in an elevator together, find true love and happiness, but then Scully breaks a nail and Mulder rushes off to her, leaving Skinner sad and alone so he becomes a monk."

Hal's eyebrows shot up. (She often asked herself, What Would Scully Do? and so she had started to take on many of Scully's characteristics, though only the good ones.) "That sucks. Anyhow, I'm tired of angst. And I was hoping for something a little more original."

Eris blew a big bubble, which popped all over her face. When she had picked away all the gum, she spoke. "Honey, there's nothing original left. But tell you what, I'll give you one of mine. It's been three thousand years. Nobody will notice..."

The Judgement Of Paris  
by Halrloprillalar <>

It was business as usual in the Lone Gunmen HQ, a snug set of rooms housing some ratty furniture, an asthmatic cat, and a lot of state-of-the-art computer equipment. In amongst the cables that coiled like nests of baby cobras, three men sat, each at his own station, performing the functions so vital to the success of their organisation: researching the latest technological developments, breaking into government computer systems, and checking out Ain't It Cool News for up-to-date X-Men casting rumours.

Unseen by the Gunmen, something wafted down from the ceiling, flashing in the light as it drifted to rest on a pile of magazines. After a few minutes, Byers got up and stretched.

"What's this?" He picked it up. It was a sheet about the size of a dollar bill, flexible, shiny, and gold.

Frohike turned to look. "Don't know. Langly, this yours?"

Joining them, Langly shook his head. "Never seen it before." As Byers handled it, words became visible, printed in black.

        GREETINGS TO YOU, THE LUCKY HOLDER OF THE GOLDEN  
        TICKET. I SHAKE YOU WARMLY BY THE HAND.

The print got progressively smaller, so Byers held it up close to read. "Holy shit," he muttered. Frohike and Langly stared at each other. Byers never swore. "It's a VIP seat for the premiere of Episode Two in 2002." For a moment there was awed silence as they absorbed the significance of the artifact.

"Byers," Langly said, "how many seats?"

Looking back and forth between the others, Byers swallowed before he spoke. "One."

The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. Then rose fifty. "Mine, then." Nimbly, Frohike nipped the golden ticket from Byers' fingers. "I have seniority."

"Not likely, crazy old man." Langly peered at the back of the ticket. "If you read the fine print, I think you'll see it belongs to me."

Frohike turned it over to see the stark letters:

        YOUR KUNG FU IS THE BEST.

Langly smirked. "Obviously a tribute to my information gathering skills. I did win that Most Valued Contributor award from the LucasWorld site."

Frohike snorted. "For cataloguing all of George's plaid shirts? That's stalking, not hacking."

"Social engineering qualifies. And I still haven't revealed the secrets of his sock drawer." Langly grabbed an end of the metal sheet.

"I think you're both forgetting that *I* found the ticket." Byers took hold of an edge. "So let's have it."

Nobody moved. Then they all pulled at once. No good, nobody let go.

"There's only one way to settle this," Frohike said at last. "Agreed?"

"Agreed." Langly sounded glad. Byers just nodded grimly. They locked the ticket in the safe, the Super-Secret Extra-Secure Ain't-Nobody-Getting-Past-The-Traps-But-Indy safe, and began the trial.

Fifteen minutes later, Langly was crowing. "Well, girls, I think I'll start picking out what I'm going to wear to the premiere."

"Not so fast, punkass." Frohike shot him a glare. "Neither of us has even had a turn."

"So? You asked me the questions, I answered them. I got the wedges, I win the game."

Byers read aloud from the rules sheet: "If this happens, any player who has not yet had a turn is permitted a chance to duplicate this feat and create a tie."

Langly's eyes narrowed, but he had to give in. First Frohike, then Byers took their turns, and to the surprise of nobody, both ended up alongside Langly in the winner's circle.

"We should have used the regular Trivial Pursuit questions." Frohike toyed with the wedges surrounding his Darth Vader playing piece.

"Byers, why are you playing Princess Leia?" Langly surreptitiously used his own figure to flip out one of Vader's wedges.

"You took Solo and Vader, so it was either her or Luke. Who would you rather have at your back in a fight, flyboy?"

"Point taken." Balancing the extra wedge on top of one of his others, Langly sat back. "What now?"

"Gentlemen," Frohike said, "the ticket is for the one whose Kung Fu is the best. We need an impartial judge."

"Scully?"

Byers shivered. "After Vegas? She'd just kick our asses, take the ticket, and go."

"Hey, Frohike," Langly leaned back, teetering on two legs of his chair. "Scully and Leia. Steel cage match. Who's your money on?"

"Scully."

"Leia could take her."

"Either way, I'd pay to see it."

"You up for a little animation and video editing?" Langly's chair thumped back onto all four legs. "Jabba's palace could use some new entertainment."

"And while you're doing that," Byers said, "I'll take the ticket. Anyway, Ivanova could take both of them. Together."

"Not a chance!"

They began to squabble and some of the coloured wedges were knocked to the floor. A sharp rap on the door brought them up short.

"I don't remember seeing any appointments in the log," Frohike said.

"There weren't any." Langly flipped his hair back. "Who could possibly get past our security and then stop to knock?"

Byers smiled. "Oh, I think I know." He got up and opened the door, nimbly snapping back the locks. Krycek walked into the room.

"Hi guys." He held out a paper bag. "I brought crullers."

Frohike stood. "What are you doing here?" Langly just stared.

"It was the strangest thing." Putting the bag on the table, Krycek pulled out a cruller. "I was a few blocks over, on a job, and I got a craving for these." He took a bite and powdered sugar drifted down to fleck the black leather of his jacket. "And then I remembered that there was a great bakery just downstairs from you." He gestured to the open bag. "I like to share -- is that so wrong?"

"Frankly, yes." Wrongness didn't stop Frohike from taking a doughnut of his own, though. So did Langly, though he chewed suspiciously.

"So, now that you're here..." Byers rested a hand on Krycek's shoulder. "Maybe you can help us settle something."

Langly paused mid-bite. "What could he know about women's wrestling?"

"Idiot." Frohike smacked the back of Langly's head. "He means the ticket."

>From just behind Krycek, Byers shot Frohike a glare. "Alex, we have a bet about who is the best at cracking and information retrieval. Maybe you could help us settle it."

Krycek's eyes narrowed and his chewing slowed for a few moments. "OK, can do. Frohike, you break into the Navy databases and delete all references to the San Francisco experiment. Langly, you place these documents," he pulled a diskette out of his pocket, "into the UMMO files. And, John, you make these changes with the IRS." Krycek scribbled some notes and handed them to Byers, then pulled a stopwatch out of his pocket. "On your mark...get set...GO!"

The Gunmen exploded into action, keyboards banging like firecrackers until Krycek almost thought he could smell the bandwidth burning. Or maybe that was just an overdone cruller. It was a scant fifteen minutes until Langly slammed the diskette onto the table. Frohike was close behind, and Byers only half a minute later.

"Gentlemen, well done." Krycek held open the bag. "I think you all deserve a cruller." Nobody took one. "No? OK. Langly, you were first to finish." He pocketed the disk. Frohike held out a diskette of his own. "And what's this?" Krycek asked.

"While I was in there, I duped some files I thought might interest you."

"Excellent initiative." Krycek nodded to Frohike, then took a sheet Byers offered him. "And this is elegant work, John."

"So," Langly said, "do I win?"

Krycek popped the last piece of doughnut in his mouth and licked his fingers. "Langly was the fastest. Frohike got me extra info, and John's work is clearly the most aesthetic." He paused and frowned. "I can't judge on this alone. I need a private interview with each of you." He looked around. "Uh...is there another room?"

"Why does everybody *say* that?" Frohike pointed to a doorway. "There are bedrooms down there."

"You first, Frohike." Krycek stood and Frohike led him down the hall.

"I think Byers' room is probably the tidiest."

"No kidding." They went in and Krycek sat on the plaid bedspread, bouncing the mattress a little. "Nice. Firm."

"Krycek, what are the questions?" Frohike crossed his arms.

"There's only one: what is this worth to you?"

Frohike smirked. "I knew you were going to ask me that. How would you like to control the US government? I have the intell that you need to make it happen."

Krycek smiled. "I'll take it under consideration. Send in Langly."

When the blond arrived and closed the door, he didn't even wait for the question. "Weapons," he said. "I can get you the best."

"You can never have too many." Krycek closed his eyes. "I'll think it over. Now John."

Langly left and when Byers appeared a few moments later, Krycek was lounging back, coiled across the blue and green expanse.

"You never told me you had such a nice bed, John."

"You never asked me."

"So, the question..."

"I know the question, Alex."

"Do you know the answer?"

Byers slowly licked his lower lip. "I can get you Mulder."

Krycek sat bolt upright. "But he's--"

"With Skinner, I know. But I know just where Mulder will be and when. If you want him..." He leaned in and whispered in Krycek's ear.

Green eyes gleamed. "Let's go."

Krycek tore back out to the main room, Byers hard on his heels. The Gunmen gathered around. "I declare that John's Kung Fu is the best," Krycek said. Then he was gone, taking just enough time to grab the bag of crullers before he slammed the door.

Byers looked smug. Langly and Frohike looked glum. Opening the safe, Byers extracted the ticket and read it over. "According to this, I'm also entitled to a tour of Skywalker ranch and a lifetime supply of action figures." He glowed. "I think I'll go see about that now." Slipping the ticket into his wallet, he left, whistling the Jedi theme.

And so, Krycek carried Mulder off and they spent many a happy day and many a hot night together, while Skinner sulked in his office. (But he never once considered becoming a monk.)

Byers got along so well with George Lucas' kids that they called him Uncle John and invited him back to a picnic on the Fourth of July.

Frohike and Langly created a Scully/Ivanova mudwrestling computer game and uploaded it to a public FTP site. Then they went and saw Star Wars.

F I N I S

Oompa loompa doompadee doo -- I hope the fic was funny to you.  
Oompa loompa doompadee dee -- A little feedback would fill me with glee! 


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